What it got instead was a team of ­medical experts led by Professor Ian Philp, who conducted a series of experiments, before they arrived at ITV’s “Sardinian rejuvenation clinic”.

The results were suitably disturbing.

“Sid Owen’s brain is old enough for a bus pass,” narrator Stephen Fry told us gravely. “Sandra Martin has the body of an 86-year-old woman.” Russell Grant is now visible from Saturn’s orbit. And Shaun Ryder has the brain of an 18-year-old man. Which would be fine, if that 18-year-old man wasn’t Tutankhamun. Anyone who remembers the humiliation of Richard Blackwood, all those years ago on Celebrity Detox, though, will be well aware these shows are not really about the science or losing a set amount of weight in a certain time.

They’re primarily about entertainment and characters like Shaun who, bless him, had been on something of a health kick recently. I’ve given up opiates, Temazepam, valium . . . crack.”

The damage had already been done, though, and “an over-active thyroid” was the very least of his problems.

You had to admire then the endless patience of sports scientist Simone Ripamonti, who used to work for Real Madrid, and the sunny optimism of the clinic’s enema woman who discovered Shaun had “a little haemorrhoid,” or ‘black grape’, just as she was about to engage pipe with bum.

This, however, was hardly the revelation of the night. 100 Years Younger’s real discovery was that the most entertaining and rock ’n’ roll person on the show wasn’t Shaun at all.

It’s June Brown, who refused to give up her beloved fags for anyone and admitted she’d had “a lot of lovers”, who she wasn’t willing to name for fear of getting some angry messages, via Derek Acorah, presumably.

June, it quickly transpired, was also the toughest, funniest and smartest celebrity who’d learned, long ago, age was entirely irrelevant so long as you were happy. Rarely, in fact, have I seen someone destroy the entire point of a show as quickly and brilliantly as June Brown did, last week.

No wonder then that ITV headed back, pretty sharpish, to Shaun losing his rag, at Simone’s exercise class.

“I ’ave something the size of a pea in me bollock sack that’s pressing on the nerve. It’s like ’avin’ toothache in your nutsack.”

And you, my friend, Simone, are twistin’ his melon, man.

Lost in a blizzard of news

THE first hint of snow really does flush out the alarmist morons in London’s television newsrooms, doesn’t it.

Nowhere more so, last week, than Channel 5 which hastily produced a one-off Beast from the East special, on Thursday.

The Big Freeze, hosted by Sian Williams, live from “the front line”, or as some of us were still calling it: “Macclesfield”.

The whole C5 news team were scattered across Britain, with the last few pockets of survivors.

North of England correspondent Peter Lane had this invaluable survival tip for motorists: “A map could make a difference”.

The last man standing in Stirling, Julian Druker reported: “Scotland is essentially a country in hibernation.” (Chuck it a lettuce leaf in May, will ya). And Dominic Reynolds began describing the scene of utter devastation at a homeless shelter in Gravesend, with the words: “Sian, the chilli con carne and the peach crumble have been finished up here and the crumble was very good.”

So God only knows what the body count was like there in the morning.

Then, just when you think nothing more can shock you, up pipes the host: “Just to let you know what happened to me, in Kent.

“We were snowed in, so I had to phone up a neighbour who’s a gardener. And he took me in the back of his van.”
#PrayForSian.

AND now a blizzard clarification, courtesy of The One Show’s resident genius, Alex Jones: “On the weather map, tomorrow and Thursday, it showed all this white stuff. Is that snow?” BBC weatherman Ben Rich: “Yes.”

At which point, viewers were probably way ahead of them. Assuming, of course, they hadn’t already switched to Celebs Go Dating where, if anything, they had even less format to work with and far more unpleasant contestants, in the shape of Muggy Mike Thalassitis and Gemma Collins.

The E4 show deserves another series, though, purely because of the brilliant commentary from Rob Beckett, who let the celebs get away with nothing and remembered everything, including a shot-necking Ollie Locke rolling back on his week- one claim that “I’d rather milk my dog’s anal gland than drink tequila.”

The cue for a quick reminder, a perfectly-timed silence and a greeting from Rob.

TV GOLD

Brilliant Lennie James in television’s bleakest but best drama Save Me (Sky Atlantic).

BBC2’s Life and Death Row: The Mass Execution. Pamela Anderson’s memorable Life Stories, with Chunk. Good Morning Britain’s Oscars expert Stephanie Beacham taking absolutely no prisoners on the red carpet.

And the expertly filleted Serial Killer Lorenzo Gilyard fixing Piers Morgan with a stare that was almost as murderous as the one Susanna Reid gives him whenever his “funny” Yorkshire voice goes on a bit too long. But not quite.